


DEEN's Birthday Treat

by jack_hunter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 doesn't exist, Autistic Jack Kline, Birthday Fluff, Castiel Can't Cook (Supernatural), Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Cute Jack Kline, Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Domestic Fluff, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Hugs, Jack Kline Gets a Hug, Multi, Pie, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27947972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_hunter/pseuds/jack_hunter
Summary: "Did you get everything on the list?""Yes, but I had to get frozen cherries because the supermarket didn’t have any fresh ones." Jack dove into the shopping bags and started to pull out the contents, placing each item in a neat row on the counter. As he did that, Castiel started opening cupboards and draws, pulling out bowls and spoons and the weighing scales. "Do you know how to make it?""I do not know," Castiel admitted, rummaging for the weird plastic spoons Dean used to measure ingredients with, "but I’m sure it’s not difficult." Jack shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs, whereas Castiel rolled his coat sleeves up to his elbows.---Set in a post-canon world where the finale never happened (because Fuck You, that's why!) and everyone is happy for once because dammit they deserve some happiness.
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 109





	DEEN's Birthday Treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SGsVamp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SGsVamp/gifts).



Castiel’s nights were always spent curled up in Dean’s arms, tucked under the bed covers and listening to the hunter’s light snores like a lullaby before he succumbed to sleep himself. Face buried in Dean’s chest, feeling each breath the man took with his arms wrapped around his middle. Sleep still tended to evade Castiel, even in the newfound domesticity he had found with the Winchesters since returning from the Empty, a human, but on the nights he could sleep he would always find himself in Dean’s arms, protected and secure. 

However, as the clock ticked over to 2am, Castiel found himself slipping out of the warm bed as slowly as possible, trying not to wake his slumbering lover. Dean just rolled over onto his back and continued snoring, undisturbed in the slightest. It made Castiel smile, just as he had done when Dean stopped keeping a gun under his pillow. Slipping his cold feet into the bumblebee slippers Eileen had bought him for Christmas, he reached over to the ajar door of the closet and took his trench coat off of the handle. The material felt oh-so familiar, like a safety blanket he would wear around the bunker over the top of his worn jeans and band tees he’d borrowed and never returned. He just couldn’t seem to let it go. He pulled the coat over his pyjamas and carefully tiptoed to the door, making sure to close it as silently as possible before scurrying down the hallway. 

Most of the lights were off in the Bunker. Despite the constant come and go of hunters from across the mainland who would take refuge in the safe haven they’d made, most had chosen to head out after ringing in the new year. It was just Castiel, Dean, Sam and Eileen that night. He continued through the Bunker, turning at the kitchen doorway and reaching around to flick on the light, startling the other figure in the room so much that they nearly dropped the shopping bags in their hands. 

“Careful!” Castiel exclaimed in a hushed tone, hurrying to take a few of the bags before they split or spilt everywhere. Once the shopping was safely on the counter, a pair of arms were thrown around his shoulders. 

“I missed you so much,” Jack whispered, his breath hitching like he had been trying to hold back a sob. Castiel immediately hugged his son back, tucking the new God’s head into his shoulder and rocking gently as he would have done if Jack were the right size for his young age. Despite how much the boy had grown up in such a short time, Jack was still only three years old. 

“I missed you too, Jack,” Castiel replied, his words low but filled with affection as he pressed a kiss to Jack’s hair and reluctantly pulled out of the embrace, “did you get everything on the list?” 

“Yes, but I had to get frozen cherries because the supermarket didn’t have any fresh ones.” Jack dove into the shopping bags and started to pull out the contents, placing each item in a neat row on the counter. As he did that, Castiel started opening cupboards and draws, pulling out bowls and spoons and the weighing scales. “Do you know how to make it?” 

“I do not know,” Castiel admitted, rummaging for the weird plastic spoons Dean used to measure ingredients with, “but I’m sure it’s not difficult.” Jack shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs, whereas Castiel rolled his coat sleeves up to his elbows. 

A loud  _ clang  _ jolted Dean from his sleep, hand immediately going under his pillow but finding no weapon there. Cursing to himself for getting sloppy in his semi-retirement, Dean scrambled out of bed and grabbed his gun from the holster on the dresser, throwing the door open and rushing into the hallway with his weapon at the ready. Happy that he decided to sleep in pyjamas that night instead of just his boxers, the hunter carefully stalked down the hallway, sockless feet making no noise against the cold floor. Mere seconds later, Sam and Eileen joined him, their own weapons drawn. Eileen’s hair was sticking up in every way possible and she didn’t have her hearing aids on, probably on too high alert to have stopped to grab them. Sam’s hair seemed to be defying all laws of science and still looked as perfect as always, making him look like a young Albert Einstein. 

No one said a word, the three of them continuing down the hall where it curved off towards the kitchen. The light was on, and there seemed to be a commotion. A quick nod and a raised eyebrow later, and they jumped around the doorframe, ready to take out any intruders. Instead, Dean found himself pausing, his gun lowering as he took in the sight before him. 

Castiel and Jack were sat cross legged on the floor in front of the oven, staring intently through the door at the dish lit up by the light inside. There was a metal mixing bowl overturned on the floor. The kitchen was a mess; cutlery strewn everywhere, containers opened and abandoned, water spilt and slowly dripping into a puddle on the floor, and there seemed to be just as much flour over the countertop as there was in Castiel’s hair. Dean couldn’t see their faces, only the reflection against the glass, but it looked like there was something red smudged down Castiel’s cheek and Jack was grinning like a child who had chugged ten cans of Mountain Dew. 

“How do we know when it’s ready?” Jack asked, rocking back and forth where he sat. 

“I’m not sure,” Castiel responded, “the recipe said until the pastry is “golden brown”, so I would say we just have to keep an eye on it.” Jack nodded. Both kept staring into the oven. 

Decidedly ignoring the disaster of the kitchen, Dean put his gun down on the table and cleared his throat, getting the attention of two would-be bakers. The father and son turned their heads and found three faces staring at them, one confused, one amused, and the other half asleep. “Cas, what the hell?” Dean exclaimed, but there was no real heat behind his words; he was more focused on the God that came barrelling into his arms. With a chuckle he hugged the boy tightly and looked up at his Angel, who had also gotten up and was smiling brighter than Dean had ever remembered. His trench coat was also covered in flour, like the bag had exploded when he tried to open it, and there was what looked like jam all down his pyjama top. As much as Dean didn’t want to let go of Jack, the kid wriggled out of his grasp and practically jumped onto Sam and Eileen, the latter of whom seemed to have woken up properly and laughed as Jack practically dwarfed her into an embrace.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” Sam said with a gleeful grin, almost lifting Jack off the ground where he was hugging the kid so tightly. 

“I got here a couple hours ago,” Jack explained when he had been let go, hands signing the words he spoke. A proud glint in her eyes, Eileen pressed a kiss to Jack’s cheek. “I missed you all so much.” 

“We missed you too,” Eileen replied. 

“So, why the surprise visit at…” Dean looked down at his watch, squinting a bit at the numbers, “... 4.34 in the morning? And what did you do to the kitchen?” As much as he loved the boy, now his hunter instincts were quieting down, the tiredness was starting to hit him again. It was Castiel who responded, having moved to stand next to Dean and slipped their hands together. 

“Jack wanted to surprise you,” the former angel began, but the overexcited three-year-old was practically bouncing on his feet, his hands fluttering by his side. 

“We’re baking a pie!” He exclaimed with what could only be described as a giggle. 

Still half asleep, Dean paused to take in that information. That was the last thing he had expected to hear. Who the hell bakes pie at four o’clock in the morning? Well, bakers obviously… and mental people. Suddenly, the heavenly smell of a baking pie hit his nostrils and all arguments about the time and the mess disappeared from his mind, replaced with the singular thought of ‘ _ Mmm… pie _ ’.

“What kind of pie?” He asked. 

“It’s a surprise!” Jack said, but he ran over to the counter and began to rummage around, making even more of a mess as flour started to waft into the air. Before anyone could ask what he was doing, he went running back over and stopped right in front of Dean, hands outstretched with an offering that the hunter accepted. He froze. 

It was a piece of A4 paper folded in half, with a warped red thumbprint in the bottom corner where Jack still had the pie filling on his hands. On the paper was a crudely drawn image of a pie on a plate, the black outlines filled in with paint to the best of the artist’s ability. In the familiar blocky handwriting - the same handwriting Dean had read over and over again whilst helping Jack to learn to hold a pen properly - the words “TO THE BEST DAD, I LOVE YOU” stared up at him. Some of the letters were written backwards. Dean opened the paper. 

“ _ To DEEN,  _

_ HAPPEE BIRTHDAY!  _

_ I hope you have a amazing day! I love you lots and I reely missed you _

_ from, JACK _ ”

Someone’s hand touched his cheek, jolting Dean out of his head. It was Castiel; the angel wiped away a tear and moved the hand to Dean’s shoulder, right above where the handprint had once been. Without a word, Castiel nodded his head to the side, and Dean looked in that direction. Sam and Eileen both looked confused and concerned, brows furrowed. Jack was staring up at him woefully, once happily fluttering hands hugged close to his chest as he rocked on the balls of his feet. The kid had gone from giggles and smiles to a kicked puppy; it wasn’t a look Dean ever wanted to see on his son’s face again. 

Card still in his hands, Dean took three steps forwards. Jack flinched, stopping the hunter in his tracks, and after a brief moment he opened his arms, waiting. Jack didn’t hesitate. He threw his arms around Dean, the impact nearly causing them both to go stumbling backwards. 

“I love you, Kiddo,” he whispered (to his surprise) without hesitation, hand in Jack’s hair, lips pressed against the boy’s temple. He sniffled and rocked gently in place, squeezing his son tightly. Jack didn’t like gentle touches. He liked bear hugs and hand squeezes and shoulder pats, strong shows of affection. Things Dean would probably still be too emotionally stunted to give if he hadn’t had the barrel of sunshine Jack was come tumbling into his life. 

It felt like forever that they stood there, but soon Dean pulled away and held Jack at an arm's length. Eileen made a comment about making some coffee and Sam moved to start cleaning up the kitchen so they could have breakfast, patting his brother on the shoulder as he passed. “Happy birthday,” he said with a smile. Eileen signed a ‘happy birthday’ before reaching for the coffee machine. Dean thanked her. 

Castiel came to stand by Jack and Dean, one hand on his son’s shoulder and the other laced through Dean’s own. With his free hand, Dean reached up and swiped some of the pie filling off of Castiel’s cheek, sticking his finger in his mouth and humming in delight. “Cherry! My favourite!” Castiel swatted him lightly. 

“You ruined the surprise, dumbass,” he scolded, but he was smiling. They were all smiling. 

Eileen cursed loudly. “There’s no coffee left!” she announced. Groans echoed throughout the room as the four hunters all sighed. It was like a switch had flipped and the Irish woman was suddenly glaring at everything that existed. If a hunter without their coffee was scary, then a deaf female hunter without her coffee was ten times as bad. 

“We could go out for breakfast?” Jack suggested. The vote was unanimous. Everyone wanted their coffee, it seemed. Jack moved to help Sam clean up, and Dean saw him signing away to Eileen. He couldn’t make out half of the signs, but he was certain he saw the one for “Mom” and judging by the way Eileen ruffled his hair as she walked by, Dean was sure he was right. 

Feeling a weight dip down on his shoulder, Dean turned his head and kissed Castiel sweetly. Flour fell from the dark hair as he shifted, but Dean couldn’t care less. Not when he felt the happiest he had in a long time. Not when he had his family with him, a family who had gone out of their way to make one of Dean’s least favourite days an amazing one. The sun probably wasn’t even up yet and he felt like there was no way the day could get any better. Well, maybe some birthday sex later, but that could wait. 

“Thanks, baby,” he said. Castiel’s eyes shone brightly. 

“It was all Jack,” Castiel replied. Dean chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Of course it was. He really is your son, huh?”

“Our son,” Castiel corrected without missing a beat. Dean felt his chest flutter, something he couldn’t describe washing over him. It wasn’t pride, no, that wasn’t the right word. It was so much more than that. Wrapping an arm around his Angel’s waist, he closed his eyes and smiled. 

“I think we need to focus on Jack’s spelling a bit more,” he commented, looking back at his card, “he still writes his ‘j’s and ‘d’s backwards. And why does it look like he painted it with his fingers?”

“He did. He couldn’t find a paintbrush.” Dean snorted a laugh. It was perfect. 

  
  
  


“Uh, guys? The pie’s burning.”

“Son of a bitch!” 


End file.
